Greeks, Gladiators, Gore
by ZePigletBeMeh
Summary: Enslaved at the age of fifteen, Perseus Jackson must fight his way to freedom in the Colosseum. With the help of his friends, he must lead a revolution against the foolish Roman Empire. There are many dangers that he encounters along the way, though. Will he survive? If not, certain death awaits young Perseus. Rated T for violent content.
1. Chapter 1

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Slavery and Mystery

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, alas. I only own my OCs. You have no reason to sue me.**

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_Roman soldiers torched Percy's home. Crops, tools and wood were set alight. Children fled from the horrific sight as their parents were either killed or captured. As a loyal fifteen-year-old would do, Percy tried to fend the attackers off. His hands were bound and Percy, along with his mother, was dragged off to an iron cage. Screams of outrage exited his girlfriend's mouth. Percy mouthed, "Save yourself," to her. The refugees gave up hope and fled. More children were beaten and gagged. More parents were cut down. More chaos entered the scene every second..._

. . .

Sweat dripped from Perseus Jackson's brow. Finally, the nightmare had ended, though alas, his sightings were real. Two years ago, all of those events happened, much to Percy's dismay. Now, at seventeen years of age, Percy was to fight in the Colosseum every afternoon, purely for the entertainment of others.

Percy rose from his bed of hay and staggered over to the water bucket. Eagerly, he dipped his cupped hands into it and splashed his tanned face with the contents of the bucket, smiling as he did so. Water always seemed to rejuvenate Percy.

Extra sleep was impossible for Percy to gain, so he decided to do some early-morning training. He glanced at his comrades before leaving his open cell, hoping that their deep sleeps would not come to a sudden halt. Training at such an early hour was prohibited unless someone of a higher rank gave you permission to do so. _Why not? They've already punished me enough. I'm gonna die some day, _Percy thought as he crept away from the other slaves and out onto the training grounds.

When he arrived at the concrete court, Percy looked around once more to reassure his loneliness. The grounds appeared to be clear. Percy picked up a sword and began to hack away at a dummy; practising the skill he was taught – killing.

Time passed and Percy began to tire. After three consecutive hours of mutilating scarecrows, any human would feel weak. Blades were not easy to lift. Percy dropped his sword and collapsed against the arena's wall, mopping his brow with his shirt. His sword made a loud _CLANG _as it hit the cement floor.

_Damn._

Percy began to curse in a language that the Romans had forbidden – Ancient Greek. Those who spoke the language were condemned to death. Only those who were Greek knew how to speak it.

Although it was advised for him not to, Percy could not help but remember the precious moments of his past life; the village he and his friends lived in, the face of his beautiful mother, the thought of returning home to a warm meal and comfort. All of those things were long gone, but Percy treasured them more than anything else.

Footsteps thudded along the training arena and a bulky figure came into clear view. Standing in front of Percy was a man dressed in a simple tunic, clutching a _very _sharp sword. "What language was that, Jackson? Oh, wait, I know. You miss your old home, Graecus?" Marcus snarled at the exhausted boy.

"Well, Marcus, you could be wrong. After all, you can't even understand Latin," Percy retorted and got to his feet. Marcus had the potential to be a gladiator. In fact, Marcus had every gladiatorial aspect radiating from him: he was arrogant, strong, violent, merciless and good with a sword. Naturally, when they first met, Percy instantly disliked him.

"Whatever. You and me are gonna fight. Right here, right now. To the death," Marcus demanded with his glowering face turned in Percy's direction. And Percy knew why Marcus was angry at him. Last month, the spear that Percy was training with impaled Marcus' arm. It cured quickly, but Marcus yearned for revenge.

"Fine, we'll fight. This is a foolish move, though, and you'll be dead. I have no intention of dying today," Percy rolled his eyes at his opponent's lack of wisdom. With that, the two rivals began to circle each other, both yielding razor-sharp swords.

However, Percy was the foolish one. Any man, gladiator or not, would be tired after three hours of training. Was a fight really the best thing to participate in at that moment?

Marcus bellowed in rage and lunged at Percy's stomach, but Percy dodged with ease, and countered with a slice at Marcus' sword arm. No damage was inflicted. A painful punch was aimed at Percy's gut, and when the fist of Marcus made contact with him, Percy cried out in agony. The hilt of Marcus' sword came crashing down on Percy's shoulder. Death was seemingly near.

"Because I'm nice, Graecus, I'm gonna give you two more minutes to live. Actually, make that one," Marcus spat while pinning Percy down with his foot. _You? Nice? That's definitely not true, _Percy thought, but he didn't dare to tell Marcus.

Percy began to feel dizzy, and groaned in pain as he let his head smash against the ground. He thought he saw a cloaked girl on the arena's roof, but quickly dismissed the idea – must have been a hallucination. But was it?

A blonde curl escaped from a black cloak, flailing in the faint wind. Delicate fingers curled around a sheathed weapon, which the mysterious person quickly drew. Presumably, the figure was a girl. As she neared the edge of the rooftop, Percy examined her more with slightly more ease. Her blonde curls were tied in a loose pony-tail and her grey eyes fixed on Marcus.

_Blonde, curly hair. Calculating grey eyes. I know her..._

Percy's trail of thought diverted to another memory – his girlfriend. She managed to escape the ambush on the village, as far as Percy could remember.

"Alas, your minute is up, Jackson. Night," Marcus chuckled as his sword pressed against Percy's chest.

Suddenly, a strangled gasp came from Marcus. A Celestial Bronze knife pierced Marcus' back, blood seeping from the fatal wound. He dropped to the ground, dead.

The blonde was an assassin, from the look of things. She leapt down from the roof elegantly and stared at Percy.

Percy stared at the teenager who murdered his enemy. She looked exactly the same as Annabeth Chase – his girlfriend. "Seaweed Brain..? Is that you..?" she stammered, her eyes filling up with tears. Percy sprinted up to her and pulled her into a close embrace, which she gratefully returned. That girl was _surely _Annabeth.

"I'm here, Wise Girl. Gods, I missed you..." Percy's crackling voice faltered as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He was standing in the middle of a training arena, kissing his beautiful girlfriend. Nothing else in the world mattered but the taste of her sweet lips. They remained like that for a few minutes before reluctantly breaking apart for air.

"Percy, I'm so sorry. I should have never left you... I love you, Seaweed Brain. I-I-I-I thought y-y-you w-were d-d-dead," Annabeth let tears run down her crestfallen face.

"Shh, Wise Girl... I'll always be here, Annabeth," Percy whispered and planted a soft kiss onto her forehead. They stood there, holding each other, and just enjoyed the bliss while they could. Surviving two years without any comfort was virtually impossible, after all.

Just then, a venomous voice sounded from behind, "Well, well, well. Perseus Jackson, didn't I advise you to forget your past life? You never told me about a special girl, did you? Well, killing her isn't an option. She seems fit enough to fight in the arena. Hmm, I like that idea. A female fighting in the Colosseum will surprise the crowd. Yes, that's perfect! Welcome to the crew, girl. Train well, and you won't die. Oh, and Perseus? Do explain why you're out here."

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**What do you think? Is it good? I will keep uploading chapters to my other story, but I just can't let my other ideas slip by. Currently, I am reading **_**Gladiator: Fight for Freedom**_**, which inspired me to write this fan-fiction!**

**Anyways, some reviews would be appreciated! Ze Piglet shall always be with you!**

**Love ZPBM.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Recruits and Fruits

**Disclaimer: I do not own PJO. It's as simple as that.**

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"Lu- Master," Percy corrected himself, "Surely the spectators will be appalled by that? Isn't it considered un-lady-like, master?" confronting Emperor Kronos was a task near impossible, though Percy was determined to get Annabeth as far away from the situation as he could. The results went as expected.

"Perseus, you have no say in this. Now, an explanation of your presence in the grounds at this hour," Kronos demanded, glaring at Percy.

"Well, master, I could not sleep, and the next event is tomorrow, so I decided to get in some practice. Coincidentally, Marcus and Annabeth showed up," Percy vaguely summarised. Marcus' name was a surprise to the topic.

"Hmm, I see. I suppose that summary was valid. And why is Marcus sprawled out and dead, Perseus?" Kronos asked with false interest.

"Uh, master, I–,"

"I killed him, Emperor Kronos. He was poised to murder Perseus, so I intervened. My shot was not intended to be fatal, though..." Annabeth apologised, keeping her eyes fixed away from the angry emperor. Her sincerity earned her a powerful slap on the cheek. She gritted her teeth as her cheek throbbed violently.

"Listen, _girl_. You call me 'Master' from now on. Is that understood?" Kronos spat at Annabeth, who nodded while Percy wrapped a protective arm around her.

"Yes, master. Did you know it was rude to hit girls?" Annabeth muttered as she clutched her red cheek.

"How dare you... You filthy rag from the slums of Athens..." Kronos edged forward, ready to strike again, when Percy yelled, "ENOUGH! You've hurt her already! Do you know when to stop?" That shut Kronos up. It killed Percy to see Annabeth in pain, and there was no way that Kronos was going to be the cause of it.

"Perseus Jackson, you are _extremely _lucky that I have not ordered your execution. Escort the fool to the empty cell next to your own. She will not be beaten, purely because she is our newest recruit. Next time, she will face more than a mere slap," Kronos threatened, and with that he walked away.

"Nice bunch, eh?" Annabeth sarcastically smiled.

"We both know how the Romans are. Emperor Kronos doesn't usually visit. When a slave gets into trouble, we usually get punished by Luke Castellan. He trains us. Sometimes he's nice, other times he isn't. You get used to him," Percy gently squeezed her torso to reassure Annabeth. Was Kronos going to hurt his Wise Girl? Well, the answer was: _Absolutely not._

. . .

When the other slaves woke, they stared in disbelief at the occupant of Percy's neighbouring cell. There were a few murmurs, like, "A girl? That's a little harsh..." but nothing further than that. Some of the men just stared at Annabeth, but she gave them her signature 'Death Glare', and the inquisitive males soon became interested in their worn sandals.

Hunks of bread were tossed into each cell – the quantities depending on the amount of cell occupants – and the slaves began to dine upon the stale grain. Percy was not punished for his defiance the night before, so he was able to eat his fill before training. He gave Annabeth an apologetic smile as she forced her bread down.

Soon after everyone had eaten, a gong sounded from the training grounds. Instantly, a soldier unlocked the cell doors and the inhabitants filed out of the dungeons for morning muster. Percy walked side-by-side next to Annabeth, who tried not to get trampled by the other slaves.

When the couple reached the courtyard, they stood at the end of the long line of slaves. A sandy-haired man with blue eyes bellowed, "SILENCE!" Everyone stood up straight and looked at the officer. "Now, today we were to compete in an event in the Colosseum. Unfortunately, that has been revoked, due to a last-minute recruiting. Julius, bring me the fruits," Luke Castellan ordered, and a scrawny man dutifully saluted and ran to get some fruit. Seconds later, he returned with a large sack full of ripe, delicious fruits.

Every slave apart from Percy and Annabeth received three, yet nobody dared to eat them. Even though Percy wasn't the smartest person in Italy, he knew what was coming; a good old fruit-pelt, where he and his girlfriend were the victims. "Slaves, on the count of three, you will pelt the food in your hands at Perseus Jackson and, well, my dear, I have no knowledge of your name," Luke informed.

"Annabeth Chase, master," Annabeth replied.

"Ah, yes. That is an unforgettable name. Well, 3!" The slaves took aim.

"2!" They drew their arms back.

"AND FIRE!" Peaches, grapes and other delicacies hurled in Percy's direction. He closed his eyes and waited for the force of the fruits to reach him, but he felt nothing. Both he and Annabeth's clothes were perfectly clean, and splattered fruits lay behind them.

Luke shook his head in disgust at the slaves' failure. "What was that? WHAT WAS THAT?" he bellowed in rage. "Whatever. Go back to the dungeons to fetch your armour and weapons. No deaths will be tolerated," Luke eyed Annabeth.

Back in the dungeons, every slave made way for Annabeth, letting her choose her weapon first. She simply shook her head and gestured for them to fetch their lethal tools of choice. When Percy stepped up to the crowded table, he grabbed his trusty sword, Anaklusmos, and a dagger – Annabeth's favourite weapon. He handed it to her, and she grinned, intelligence gleaming in her electrifying eyes. Once the weapons were selected, all of the slaves headed back to the training grounds to, well, train.

. . .

Percy ducked to the left as a large mace zoomed past where he was previously standing. The torn face of his opponent grunted in annoyance and struck once more. Again, Percy remained clean of any wounds. Anaklusmos sliced the man's sword arm, causing him to drop his mace. Victory was Percy's.

Triumphant, the teenager looked around for Annabeth. Percy saw her battling two angry slaves, who, by the look of things, we losing the match. Annabeth slammed the hilt of her dagger into one of the boys' helmet and let go of it. In awe, Percy watched as the bronze knife ricocheted off of the helmet and pierced Annabeth's other opponent's armour. _Damn, _he thought. _Annabeth can _fight_._

Hours passed and the slaves grew weak, therefore retiring to their cells. Salted chunks of meat and stale bread were passed around, and brief chatter commenced. Most of the conversation topics were Annabeth's performance in training, which was no surprise. That was one of the many reasons why Percy loved Annabeth. She was the perfect warrior.

Eventually, all of the slaves had drifted off to sleep – all but two. You can guess who those two were. Percy and Annabeth could not help but listen to the riveting argument outside.

"Three of them? Are they plotting against me?" Kronos' voice boomed.

"My Lord, almost every Graecus alive is deceased. A revolution would require a sizeable army, would it not?" Luke stated.

"I suppose you are correct. Di Angelo, you're sharing a cell with a dark-haired, sea-green-eyed boy. Understand?"

Into Percy's cell staggered a deathly pale boy with dark hair and eyes. Into the cell of Perseus Jackson entered Nico Di Angelo, a good friend of Percy and Annabeth. The couple stared in disbelief at the boy, who simply asked, "Perce, what in the name of Hades is Annabeth doing in this facility?"

. . .

Shockingly, the gladiatorial event was held the day after the cancelling was announced. Slaves hurried around the dungeons, grabbing weapons and crude leather armour, struggling to tie the straps. Annabeth got to the table early and got a dagger, Anaklusmos and a black iron sword, along with three breastplates. She handed them to her trusted friends, who thanked her.

Percy glanced around the dungeon. His last minutes could be spent in the Colosseum, where the blazing sun scorched the necks of the slaves.

Shortly after the chaos died down, the slaves were summoned in the arena. They lined up as the crowd roared with anticipation. Emperor Kronos, who was perched on a balcony above, held out his hand to signal silence. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologise for the reschedule of events. Two new recruits joined, one of which is a young lady. Anyways, BRING OUT THE GLADIATORS!" Kronos yelled, evilly laughing afterwards.

Fourteen burly, scarred and vicious figures emerged from behind an iron gate, their hands clasped around jeopardizing items. The slaves were outnumbered two to one. They sniggered and pointed at Annabeth, who simply smiled sweetly back at them. _Oh, they'll regret that later..._

Fighting broke out in the spacious venue that hosted the magnificent blood-path. Nico sprinted west and began to duel a tanned gladiator, while Annabeth fended off three others. Percy knew it was time to perform the skill he was taught two years ago – killing.

Anaklusmos impaled the nearest gladiator, who dropped dead to the sandy floor. Currently two slaves and one gladiator had died. Make that three: Annabeth slit one of her opponent's throats. Blood spilled from the deep cut and stained the Colosseum's floor.

Just as one gladiator had died, four more prepared to kill Annabeth. Percy screamed a battle cry and darted towards the major battle, cutting down all of the gladiators in his path. Another man received the point of Annabeth's dagger. Two more slaves fell into an eternal sleep.

When Nico had disposed of his enemy, he joined the couple in slaughtering the five remaining gladiators.

_WHOOSH! _Percy's sword whistled in the wind and mutilated one of the trained warriors.

_CLANG! _Nico's weapon collided with the strong armour of another gladiator, knocking him out. A deadly aura radiated from Nico as he finished the job.

_SPLASH! _Blood poured out of the stomach that Annabeth had pierced.

Bloodshed, pain and misery were all that mattered to the gladiators. And in time, that's what every single gladiator had received, along with death.

"BY THE GODS, THAT WAS A BATTLE! THOSE THREE ARE REMARKABLE WARRIORS! DID YOU ENJOY THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN?" more screams of excitement echoed throughout the Colosseum's walls. Emperor Kronos sat in his throne, stroking his beard and plotted the deaths of the three victorious slaves.

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**He he... Blood...**

**So, that was the goriest chapter I have ever written in my life!**

**Reviews will be appreciated, and I would like to thank those who have reviewed my previous chapter!**

**Love ZPBM.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Disappointment

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. The evil genius known as Rick Riordan does.**

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Footsteps thudded along the Emperor's balcony that overviewed the arena, where mutilated slaves and gladiators lay motionless on the crimson-stained sand. Spectators talked amongst themselves, glancing at the empty throne where Kronos previously lounged upon. Emperor Kronos ignored the din surrounding him and continued to march towards the dungeons.

Kronos saw the trio of survivors jog to the dungeon gate, and instantly, he thought, _I am going to strangle Perseus Jackson with my bare hands._ Unlike most, Kronos knew of the slaves' nationality and the importance of Percy's life. Perseus Jackson was valuable yet far from vulnerable.

As Percy, Annabeth and Nico returned to the dungeons, Kronos attempted to think of an excuse for their punishments. They were Greek, but they had received the same treatment as the rest of their kind. Many fine gladiators had been slaughtered at their hands, though the Colosseum was a place for murderous games. No disrespectful words that were aimed at Romans had exited their dry lips – _Wait, that's it! Not one of them chanted, "We who are about to die salute you!"_

It was a genius excuse; logical and understandable. He grinned to himself and bounded for the gates, receiving anxious looks from the entertained crowd.

. . .

Meanwhile, the roars of the excited spectators echoed throughout the dank dungeons. Percy wondered why people were so keen to witness death – seriously, there was nothing satisfying about blood guts and gore. Surely the crowd's deranged minds would change if they were fighting for their lives in an inescapable arena, but they all lived exotic lives; comfortable beds, flavoursome delicacies and an unfortunate slave to wait upon them. Misery was neither in their interests nor a common thing for them to face.

Awaiting the victorious trio was none other than Luke Castellan, who smiled at the Greeks and faintly applauded them. "I've never been one to believe in miracles, though one would naturally be surprised if three slaves – two of them new to the Gladiator School – returned to their master alive and clean of wounds. Of course, I had faith in you three, but this...is unexplainable..." Luke stammered, half-confident.

Before Percy could thank his master for his kind words, a tall man wearing a golden laurel marched into the dungeons furiously. Instinctively, everybody bowed down before Emperor Kronos.

"You three dare dishonour our gladiators? What makes you think that I will tolerate such a sin?" Kronos bellowed, causing the entire dungeon to shake; the dungeons must have been trembling as much as Annabeth and Nico. Percy was completely bewildered, however. Which of their actions were dishonourable? Cutting down their enemies?

"My lord, what did we do? I certainly do not remember dishonouring you or the gladiators..." Percy's voice faltered as he realised he spoke out of turn.

"Young Perseus, actually, this situation is more about what you three did _not _do," the Emperor maliciously grinned and Annabeth suddenly paled. It killed Percy to see Annabeth with such a frightened expression... "Ah, young lady, you have come to a realisation, haven't you?" Kronos stepped towards her, his voice low yet far from calm. Annabeth simply nodded, colour still draining from her beautiful face until her skin matched her ashen eyes. "Do tell your comrades what you failed to do, girl."

"We did not chant 'we who are about to die salute you', my lord."

Kronos continued to edge forward, raising his hand to strike. "And why is that, Annabeth?"

"Err, we may, uh, have," – Annabeth was rudely interrupted by the enraged emperor. Kronos briefly chuckled at Annabeth's pathetic attempt to create an excuse.

"My dear, we both know that there is no excuse for lacking honour," despite his relaxed words, Kronos' clenched fist collided with the terrified girl's neck. Annabeth cried out in agony as she doubled over, tears streaming down her pale face. No, Percy was _not _going to endure the horrific sight of his love in such pain.

Young Perseus charged at Kronos, who felt hot leather crash into his jaw. "You fool..." Kronos hissed as he spat out a mouthful of blood. A confused Nico walked over to Annabeth and heaved her up while Percy suffered from a grievous beating.

With Annabeth too weak for words and Nico too dumbfounded to talk, it was none other than Luke Castellan who spoke up, "My lord, Perseus has a young mind, as all boys of his age do. He couldn't stand the sight of his lover taking the punch. Release him; after all, the challenge lies in the arena tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Kronos let the bloody Greek slave dropped to the ground and splutter on the dungeon floor. "Castellan, you're right. The boy just needs to know of his place. Escort them to their cells."

. . .

Meanwhile, the slaves behind bars muttered anxious words to each other. What caused the crowd to be so excited?

One of them whispered, "I bet that girl is dead," in a melancholy tone.

Another replied, "No, Emperor Kronos wouldn't allow it."

A younger slave asked, "Do you think the rest are dead?" in a hushed voice.

All of their enquiries were answered as two limp figures and Nico returned to their cells. Luke responded to the unspoken yet obvious question, "No, this didn't happen in the arena. None of them came out of there wounded. Let's just say that Perseus and Annabeth got on Emperor Kronos' bad side."

Doors unlocked and the slaves surrounded the trio. Some tried to touch Annabeth to see if she was not a ghostly illusion, but Percy was conscious enough to raise his fist at them. Instinctively, the curious slaves backed away from them.

The victorious trio walked into their cells and fell asleep, and silence resumed.

. . .

"_What if the Romans find us? Would the Emperor have mercy?" a frustrated boy with blonde hair and electrifying eyes enquired. He was seated at a crudely fashioned wooden table with an elf-like-mischievous-looking-Latino-kid and a beautiful girl with choppy hair and eyes that appeared to be kaleidoscopes._

_Latino kid laughed, "Of course he will, Jason. He'll just dismiss the idea of runaway slaves whenever he looks at us and invite us over for dinner," he sarcastically replied. That earned him an elbow in the rib from the girl._

"_Leo, this is serious. I know we're pretty new to the refugee camp, but these guys have been surviving here for _two years_. If anything goes wrong, they should know what to do. And, no Jason, the Emperor wouldn't be merciful. He would completely eradicate the camp and those within it," the violent but pretty girl smiled apologetically at the so-called 'Jason'._

"_Piper, you have spent way too much time with Annabeth to know that word..." Jason's voice faltered as he remembered the girl who would do anything to rescue Percy Jackson – a boy who neither Piper, Leo nor Jason had ever met._

_The three teenagers sat in an awkward silence. Out of the blue, the door of the hut that they were staying in swung open and slammed shut. Two uninvited visitors leaned over the table and unravelled a scroll. "Do you have any idea what this says? No, you don't, because you never READ IT," the taller of the two intruding girls snapped. She had jagged black hair and eyes that matched Jason's perfectly._

"_Sorry, Thals. We were too busy worrying about our deaths. This scroll must be much more important than our well-beings," Jason retorted. The other girl stabbed her spear's end into the table, causing Leo to shriek._

"_Thalia, how do you put up with this guy? I mean, he _is _your brother, but his sarcasm is oh-so annoying," the angrier of the two intruders asked the tall girl. Strawberry blonde waves of hair cascaded down her arched back. Her intense brown eyes peered into Thalia's._

"_Natasha, Thalia, can we just calm down a little bit? How about this: you inform us of the contents of the scroll rather than murder Jason. Does that sound better than cleaning up each other's blood?" Piper anxiously persuaded Thalia and Natasha, who reluctantly obliged._

"_Well, this scroll contains valuable information regards to Percy's disappearance. He's been stuck in a gladiator school for the past two years, and Annabeth, along with Nico, were recently recruited there. So, we all know what this means, don't we?" Thalia spoke calmly, yet her eyes displayed the fear she held deep under her tough skin. _

"_Wait, hold up... Are we going to bust out Nico, Annabeth and her boyfriend? Can I at least make a couple more weapons before-hand? Natasha sort of ruined the spear I made for her _last week_," Leo squeaked, stripping him of any dignity that he used to have. Natasha glared at Leo, who... Was he whimpering?_

"_No, Valdez, we're gonna nicely ask the guards if we can kidnap them and take them off to a secret location. What do you thing we're supposed to do? Percy is our only hope when it comes to rebellion, Annabeth's the only smart one out of all of the refugees and Nico can scare just about anyone with his looks. Are you guys in or not?" Natasha rolled her eyes at Leo's Leo-ness. Everyone nodded in agreement._

"_Now, to formulate a plan. It won't be a good plan – we need Annabeth for one of those – and it could get us killed, but we _need _those three."_

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**I'm back! After a month or so, I have finally published this chapter (I sincerely apologise for not updating sooner)! I ended up re-writing the whole thing after a while... Anyways, I owe you a few explanations.**

**Firstly, the major updating delay was caused by my other writing tasks, homework and tiredness. Secondly, I have included my OC, Natasha Daley, in this chapter, because I discontinued my other story; over all, Revenge Isn't So Sweet wasn't as **_**sweet **_**as I hoped it would have been *I applaud myself for my extremely bad punch line*. I did promise a re-appearance of Natasha, though, so here she is!**

**By the way, I did try to incorporate some aspects of The Lost Hero in this chapter. While writing this, I just thought, "Wait a second... How did I not think of this before? This is pretty similar to TLH. Maybe, just maybe, this story makes sense! Nice one, Piglet!" Extra disclaimer: I DID NOT WRITE THE LOST HERO.**

**Sorry for the long wait, and I will try to include other characters as the series progresses. If you really want a certain character to come into the story, post it in a review or PM my account.**

**Ze Piglet. :D**


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